


Stiles Hates Bats, Derek Comes to the Rescue

by SplinteredSunlight



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Evolved Derek Hale, High School Student Stiles Stilinski, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Mentioned Lydia Martin, Mentioned Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Original Character(s), Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Has Panic Attacks, Stiles Stilinski is a Mess, Werewolf Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23459464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SplinteredSunlight/pseuds/SplinteredSunlight
Summary: What on God's green earth! His palm is currently touching Derek's abs.The abs of Derek Hale.Derek Hale's abs.His breathing which had slowed down and was becoming stable gets thrown off track. Is he having another panic attack? Hah! No, no. He grabs at what feels like Derek's t-shirt desperately, trying to trace the ridges of muscles again.
Relationships: Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Kudos: 121





	Stiles Hates Bats, Derek Comes to the Rescue

The digital table clock read 02:00 am. Just a couple of hours more and Stiles could go back to sleep. He was currently trying to decipher this new chapter which he had chosen to leave out earlier. But with the lockdown and the extra days because of the postponed exams, he had decided to make good use of it. He had a complicated sleep schedule, and according to that, he was supposed to get some sleep in the late afternoon so that he could stay up till dawn. But, obviously, he had overestimated his abilities, and had thus spent the entire time scrolling through his phone, reading conspiracy theories, and had assured himself all the while, that he had enough will power to stay awake and focus on his textbooks. The present Stiles wanted to smack the past Stiles for such degrees of overconfidence. Moreover, his mind was crowded with all the conspiracy theories and whenever he managed to read one full paragraph without dozing off, he would realize, by the time he was reading the last word, that not a single word from the textbook had made their way into his brain. After four more attempts of reading the same paragraph and either dozing off in the end, or his mind going erratic, he shuts the book with a thump and jumps off his bed. He has had enough and he was determined about making good use of this extra time. Who needs sleep anyway? He switches on his phone, plugs in his headphones and listens to 'Joy Division' by The Wombats on repeat as he heats himself a cup of water for his coffee. He turns on the faucet and keeps on splashing the cold water to rid his eyes of sleep and his brain of over-exhaustion. Stirring the coffee and making a mental note of adding coffee to the shopping list, he rushes back to his room.

With his sudden new found enthusiasm, he lets the coffee cool down a bit and then chugs it down, all the while letting the soundtrack run its course. He glances at the clock and it reads 02:48 am in neon red. 'Sure' he thinks to himself, 'Let's just wait for it to be three. Round figures.' he reasons, as he taps on the Instagram app. But then it occurs to him that if he kept on procrastinating like that, he would inevitably end up with two round digits on his paper. He lets out a small sigh as he puts his phone away and reopens his book. This time, he reads it out loud to gain optimal focus. He does. In fact, he was actually starting to like the chapter even though he has concentrated only for…

WAIT A MINUTE…

Stiles jerks up on his bed. Oh no, no … he had dreamt the whole damn thing. He had never gotten off his bed, he had dreamed the whole thing.

His enthusiasm, even though it had been something that he had dreamed, was shattered. The clock reads 3:23 am. Well, on the bright side, he got some sleep, so that would keep him up for quite a while.

To clear his mind, he opens the window and climbs out to the roof. The sky was clear and a lot of stars were visible. The night sky had always intrigued him. When he was young, his mom and dad used to take him to those camping trips for the sole reason of stargazing. Those were some amazing times.

He loved tracing the constellations most of all. He had that impressive ability where he would take one look at a scanty cluster of stars and name the constellation they were a part of.

He had been gazing for a long while until he catches something move in the left corner of his peripheral vision. Oh for god's sake! He hated bats. And if it really is the said creature, that might have entered his room through the open window, then it was all on him. He never should have left the window open.

He stumbles back to his room which was dimly lit with the scattered light of his study lamp. He peeps in and thankfully doesn't see anything. It must have been his tired eyes then. He shuts the window behind him as he enters the room. He clears out his table and places the books on it. As he does so, his pen stand topples over the edge and falls. The sudden clattering of the pens on the wooden floor in the empty house startles him. It also startles the bat that had taken refuge in his bookshelf. Well, he had guessed correctly afterall, he assures himself like the pessimistically optimistic person that he is.

The bat begins flying inside his room in a circular motion while Stiles screams in horror trying to look for refuge. He freaking hated bats. With all the crazy beasts the Nemeton had dragged into Beacon Hills, nothing had scared him more than this bat that was now in his room. Because they kind of made him feel helpless? Okay, he could totally bug spray the poor bastard to make it go, but he wouldn't, because he felt sorry for it, probably, well, something very similar to that.

He calculates if he can get the window open, but he didn't want to die because of a bite from a bat. From anyone for that matter. So, he grabs his phone and craws underneath his bed, desperately pressing on all the buttons to turn the phone on sooner. Opening the search engine, he types unsteadily: "ger eid of bsts". Apparently, a YouTube video opens up, where they begin making a box-like structure. He puts his phone away in utter disappointment and whimpers. His eyes search for the bat, until, his vision kind of distorts as tears pool in his eyes and he feels out of breath. 'Oh crap! Panic attack! He breathes in shakily, his vision already blacked out. Oh no. Oh no! Is this how he was gonna go out? Dying of a panic attack triggered by a harmless tiny bat? After all those monsters they had to deal with? This was shameful as hell. Probably even more shameful than being run over by a bicycle…' he thinks as he realizes that he had felt this helpless only that one time when Jennifer had taken his father for the crazy ritual sacrifice, but at least he had Lydia around him back then. But it is out of question hoping for her help because she was definitely busy studying with her phone switched off for the detox she had been talking about last week.

Scott. His dear dear best friend, Scott, is probably sleeping. Definitely sleeping. With all the free time, who wouldn't? Wait, what the hell? Who would even leave their house in the dead of the night in the middle of …

A loud crash resounds and he is interrupted in his train of thought with the sound of shattering glass. His head jerks up instinctively, but darkness is all he sees. A great deal more of crunching of glass and upturning of chairs follow and things clatter on the floor. Great! Freaking awesome! Are all the creatures from the bestiary there, inside his room for the party that he couldn't remember promising them? It felt like his heart was going to explode and there was this loud hammering in his head which kept increasing exponentially by the second.

"Stiles?!" came a distant voice, and a pair of hands dragged him outside from underneath his bed. Derek was here? Of course Derek was here, like a cherry on the top. Of course, why not. He has finally teamed up with the other freaks and decided to rip him out with his teeth and …

"STILES!" Derek calls out again. After a while, Stiles feels a flurry of cool air whipping at his face. Was he in heaven? Okay, that was fast. Wait. No, this jet of wind was familiar. Oh, his pedestal fan. He suddenly feels his hand being pulled at, and his palms being placed on something hard, yet soft, like the side of a headboard. "Stiles, focus on my breathing. In and out." He feels Derek's breath on his arm as he speaks. He finds his rhythm and his breathing somewhat comes back to normal. Okay, it was kind of stable now, with the rise and fall of … huh? Oh! OH! What headboard?

It was his stomach.

Derek's stomach.

His rock-hard abs.

What on God's green earth! His palm is currently touching Derek's abs.

The abs of Derek Hale.

Derek Hale's abs.

His breathing which had slowed down and was becoming stable gets thrown off track. Is he having another panic attack? Hah! No, no. He grabs at what feels like Derek's t-shirt desperately, trying to trace the ridges of muscles again. His eyes had not yet adjusted to the darkness of the room, but he can make out the hazy silhouettes in the room. "Stiles?" he hears him call again, "What happened? Are you okay?" He feels Derek move away, and he clutches the fabric tighter until he feels the warmth of his skin through it again, and something being pressed onto his lips. Something cold.

HOLD UP! ARE THESE DEREK'S LIPS!?

He goes with the flow and pouts, parting his mouth until he feels a cold stream glide down his chin and moisten his chest. His eyes, which he didn't realize he had closed at some point, finds its focus as he opens them in utter confusion.

Oh god! That was the rim of a water bottle that Derek had held to his mouth. The bestiary party sounded like the best thing ever right now.

He falls to his side and buries his head among his pillows in absolute embarrassment. He adjusts his head and peeks at him and sees Derek standing there awkwardly. He catches Stiles peeking at him and heads to the window in a swift movement, his face scrunching up into his usual look. Right before hauling himself outside the window, Derek pauses and asks, "Will you be okay… the rest of the night?" keeping his gaze fixed at the floorboards all the while.

Was he offering to stay?

Will he stay if Stiles thinks he won't be okay?

Wait. Derek cared if Stiles wasn't okay?

Before the silence got too awkward, Stiles blurts out, "Stay. If you want, I mean." Yup, that sounded awkward. But since the damage was done, why not. He sees Derek staring at him from behind the fan. "Are you okay?" he asks as he reaches forward, circling the fan and hands him the bottle of water. Aah, water! Stiles grabs the bottle and raises the thumb of his other hand and downs the water faster than usual, almost scaring himself that he might choke on it and they might have yet another interesting story to laugh about later at their pack meetings. Fortunately, he doesn't and he thanks his stars for it, until his mind races in its customary pace and another train of thought reminds him of the bat. He goes rigid and wearily scans the ceiling.

"I got rid of the bat." Derek said, and Stiles rejoices, "Oh thank god! Wait no. Thank you. For saving me. By chasing away the bat, and then helping me out of my panic attack."

"No problem. Good thing I was wandering in the woods when I heard your scream. The closer I got to your place, the more I got this horrible whiff of your frustration and impulsively barged in. I'm sorry about the window though…" replies Derek and Stiles couldn't help but roll his eyes as he interrupts, "Oh my god, Derek! YOU SAVED ME FROM THE MONSTROUS CREATURE. To hell with the window!"

Stiles sees Derek bend down as he attempts to pick up the broken glass, and he jumps off the bed to stop him. But, while making his way to Derek, his leg gets caught in the side of his desk and he loses his balance and quite "conveniently" topples over the crouched man. 

"STILES!!" Derek growls; but he holds him, as they make their way down, shielding his body with his own, from the broken glass all over the floor. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" he snarls at him. But Stiles was far from hearing a word that was rumbling out of Derek. Being so close to him distracted him so much that he was busy staring into the dark emerald depths in the eyes of the older man even though the pupils covered more than half of it due to the dim lighting. The emerald rings are soon replaced by the cold icy blue, that shone through the darkness, startling Stiles, extracting a squeak of fear from him. But, the faint smell of arousal emanating from his body doesn't fool Derek anymore. He gets back on his feet pulling Stiles up with him in such ease and swiftness, that Stiles thinks that he levitated for a while back there. But he can think of that later because his hands were currently pulling down Derek's leather jacket behind him, and the latter wasn't objecting, in fact, he was pushing him back towards his bed. No. Not the bed, the door. Of course. "So cliched!" Stiles smirks as he lets Derek press him against the door and then press himself against him. With his gaze locked on his face, Derek lowers his mouth on his, and Stiles parts his lips. Sure this time. It was indeed the cool, yet warm lips of Derek Hale.

They end up in the bed at some point.

Needless to say, that their clothes don't.


End file.
